


Masks

by wickedthoughts



Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies), My Bloody Valentine (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:58:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6009760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedthoughts/pseuds/wickedthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Tom/Clay Valentine's Day drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masks

* * *

 

The media, tastefully sensitive as ever, called it the  _ Crystal Lake Massacre. _ Clay saw the phrase emblazoned on newspapers, watched it scrawl along the bottom of TV news stations in the sleazy motels and gas stations he and Tom stopped at out of necessity.  _ Crystal Lake Massacre _ , they screamed at him, along with  _ scenes straight out of a horror movie _ and  _ no survivors. No survivors, _ and Clay marveled at his own sense of self-importance whenever he felt surprise that even someone as physically large as he was could slip through the cracks of history. He  _ had _ survived, but no one would ever know the part he’d played.

Not that they wouldn’t remember his name. His name was prominent in the newspapers and scrawled on the TV screens along with the rest of it. They thought he’d done it, and Clay had to admit that it was more believable than the truth. A psychotic young man was more palatable to the public than an unkillable monster with a hockey mask and machete. So now he was Clay Miller, second most wanted in America.

“Here.”

The most wanted man handed Clay a steaming styrofoam cup of gas station coffee and the younger man tore his eyes from his own face on the TV. The picture they were using was no longer a perfect likeness. His shaggy brown hair was now short and a dark blond. At least three days worth of stubble always adorned his cheeks and upper lip. He still didn’t recognize himself in the mirror, but maybe that was a good thing. Clay wasn’t sure if he wanted to look at the man who had failed everyone he’d loved, or might have loved. The fair-haired stranger was easier on his eyes.

“Thanks.”

Clay sipped at the bitter black sludge and felt the fugue lifting from his brain even as he scalded his tongue. Tom walked over to the coffee counter, adding an excessive amount of sugar and flavored creamer to his coffee. He swirled the components into a golden brown mixture with a white plastic straw, turned back to Clay, and inclined his head at the TV.

“Guess it’s a good thing I paid this time.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

They’d never had a problem before, though. Not even with the sleepy-eyed highway patrol officer who’d pulled them over for speeding on their way out of Tennessee. He hadn’t given Clay a ticket, let him off with a warning after Tom put on the charm. Tom was good at that. Combined with his gorgeous face, pale freckled skin and startling green eyes accentuated by his newly red-dyed hair, Tom was an irresistible force. Looking at him now, Clay was amazed once more by how goddamn lucky he’d been to run into him.

“We should get going,” Tom started for the door.

“Okay.” 

Clay took a gulp of coffee, made a face at the taste and at the bite of the hot liquid on his already-burnt tongue. The door chimed as Tom stepped outside into the Texas sunshine. They were almost to Houston, from there they would hug the coast down to Mexico. They would both breathe easier once they crossed the border. Clay chugged down the rest of the coffee and followed after the only other person who would ever know both his name and his story.


End file.
